


Honey and Chrysanthemums

by prettyoddmoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Choking, Dom Tom Riddle, F/M, Female Reader, Hogwarts Prefects' Bathroom, Oral Sex, Prefects' Bathroom Sex, Rough Sex, Slytherin Reader, Top Tom Riddle, at least it smells great, i am not confident about this at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25774999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyoddmoon/pseuds/prettyoddmoon
Summary: After an unpleasant encounter with insomnia, a sleepless Slytherin Prefect decides to abandon her chambers in order to pass the time within the sultry comfort of the lavish Prefects' Bathroom. There, she stumbles upon a fellow Prefect – obscenely handsome and silver-tongued, Tom Riddle finds no difficulty in enchanting the young witch without having to touch his wand even once.
Relationships: Tom Riddle & Reader, Tom Riddle/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 246





	Honey and Chrysanthemums

**Author's Note:**

  * For [oswinpxnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswinpxnd/gifts).



> hello, readers! i hope you are having the most wonderful day ever! i solemnly dedicate this fic to sara – oswinpxnd – who not only served as a major inspiration, but provided the general idea, too. i cherish you to no end!! enjoy this piece of work! love, fia xoxo

Stars, orbs, constellations, and planets waltzed through the air in front of a celeste background as [Y/N] spun her wand in circles. Her bemused gaze was focused on the miniature elysian sky she had conjured within the comfort of her canopy bed out of boredom; struggling to fall asleep had usually not plagued her, but that night, something got in the way between the girl and dreamland, like a sudden dead end on a road that you know like the back of your hand. Breathing evenly, [Y/N] followed each celestial body with her [Y/EC] eyes, hoping against hope her lids would get heavy after all and she'd be forced – or relieved – to let them fall shut.

But to no avail. The longer she watched the makeshift night sky, the more she realised how alert she was, each and every idea of tailing off deflagrating within her brain. She exhaled sharply at the realisation, screwed up her eyes, and dropped her armed hand at last, allowing every last fragment of her conjuring to fade into the air. Within her head, she toyed with a few possibilities as to what could be done.

Count sheep? Control her own breathing? Get up and do homework, thus making use of the insomnolent occurrence?

Her dormmates must've been asleep for a long time, too, and getting one to wake up only to be met face-to-face with a groggy Slytherin girl was beyond the realm of [Y/N]'s wishes. She sighed, maybe a tad louder than one would usually do so, when her mind evoked a tempting idea.

Being a Prefect provided the young witch one very pleasant privilege, one that was most enticing to indulge in, all of a sudden. The access to the Prefects' Bathroom – an utmostly special lavatory, much more luxurious than the rest the Hogwarts castle bore. The idea of sneaking off and delighting in a relaxing bath amongst well-scented bubbles and foam didn't sound half bad, [Y/N] thought, not bad at all, in fact. Nothing spoke against it, except for the curfew. But that was easily avoidable, if you, for one, knew which routes to take, and for two, were aware that the as-old-as-the-hills caretaker rarely deferred to post-lights-out surveillance. The plan fell into place brilliantly.

[Y/N] pulled the emerald covers off of her body, sitting up on the edge of her bed with as few noise as possible. Having pushed aside the curtain she was hidden behind, she took stock of her surroundings. There was Cornelia, and then there was Sana, Natalie following suit, and, of course, Elaria – all sound asleep, to the very last one. [Y/N] smiled to herself and stood up from the comfort of her bed, proceeding to throw on her robes – robes that bore the silver-and-malachite badge that read _PREFECT_ – over her simple satin nightgown. Slipping into a pair of flats, she picked up her wand and tippytoed her way out of the dorm, down the hall, through the abandoned yet nonetheless ambiant common room, and out, to the dungeons. Soon enough, [Y/N] had found herself in the foyer, where she ascended the multiple sets of marble staircases towards the fifth floor. Some portrait inhabitants gave a sleepy stir as she passed them, others snored heartily as though there was no better thing in the world, and only one person – a weaving young woman in rouge – paid attention to a young witch roaming the castle after hours, yet only having shot her one brief look of depletion.

Once the last stair towards the fifth floor had been overcome, [Y/N] turned right and wandered down the hall, where, just around the bend, she knew she would find the sombre painting housing Boris the Bewildered, who, if you asked nicely and with the right password, would unveil the Prefects' Bathroom beyond his portrait.

Mere footsteps away from the turn, a note of commotion echoed across the tall castle walls. [Y/N]'s head jerked backwards, but the rest of the hall was in the clear; she thus kept close to the wall, edging her way along it, mindful not to cause much noise. All the way by the corner, she carefully leaned forward and peeped down the hall perpendicular to hers.

Though only illuminated by a few torches, there was no mistakening for the person tarrying in the passage – [Y/N] knew _him_ all too well. An exceptionally tall, dark-haired and sallow-skinned individual that she knew to be named Tom Riddle had just approached the painting, most definitely originating from the other end of the hall. An individual she also knew to call her colleague, as he had been occupying the role of a Slytherin Prefect himself. The girl watched him halt in front of the portrait, retracting her head just in time for him to gaze around with cautiousness, and proceed to whisper a hushed password to the man in the picture. In no time, it had swung open, and the young man vanished beyond it.

[Y/N] inhaled. What in the absolute end of the world had _he_ been doing there, and, most importantly, _why_ at the same time as her?

Well, too bad, then.

Turning on her heel as to return to her dorm, [Y/N] already began contemplating and switching between ways to confront him, only to be – in true Tom-Riddle-and-[Y/N]-[Y/LN]-are-bantering fashion – flirtatiously replied to. That was when she came to a sudden halt, as a wave of realisation swooped over her head. There had always been too much unsolved tension – _sexual_ tension – between the two of them to be a sheer coincidence. Or was her sleep-deprived brain just fooling her with a mirage of those events? It couldn't be; the occasional waist caresses when he'd approach her from the back instead of a greeting, the unspoken rule of staring at each other over the dinner table, his slightly raised eyebrow at a witty remark, the hours spent alone in the Common Room where he'd be more talkative than usual, and, most importantly, more talkative than he got with anyone at all – all of those bled into the ultimate realisation, that, yes, he could very well be interested.

Swiping her tongue over her bottom lip, [Y/N] nibbled on it. He certainly had the looks, with the contrast of the dark, wavy hair and piercing eyes against the pallid skin. He certainly had the wits, too, exceeding all expectations and excelling in every last subject. And, he certainly had the mystery (as his last name prompted): Reserved, enigmatic and sinister – yet spilling over with effortless charisma and charm like a fountain.

Thus, [Y/N] found herself standing in front of the portrait of Boris the Bewildered before this train of thought had even ended. She inhaled deeply, eyes closed, and weighing her decision. Her debate with herself was torn through by a weary, sharp voice, “Seeking anything, Miss [Y/LN]?” The witch snapped out of it immediately, only coming to the realisation it was the man in the picture himself. Relieved, she took that as a sign – saying no to him would simply be impolite, and awkward, too.

“Yes, Sir Boris,” the corner of her mouth merely lifted. “Entrance to the lavatory.”

“I must impart the fact Mister Riddle has already entered sheer minutes ago.”

“I am aware,” she replied, a spark of confidence audible through her voice. “I anyhow seek to tread in. _Chrysanthemum_.”

The man in the picture lowered his chin. “My late spouse's favourite. Do come in, you luminous soul.” With those words being spoken, the painting creaked open to reveal a small passage towards a heavy door. [Y/N] thanked the man, stepping over the threshold. In no time, the picture had swung shut behind her, and she strolled up to the door, breath caught somewhere between her bronchi and windpipe. Entering wasn't a question of courage or will, rather something within the realms of hesitation, fed by a simple _What if?_

There was only one way to find out, the girl thought.

Pressing down the handle as slowly as she could, [Y/N] pushed the door with fewer noise she'd expected. In contrast to the passageway, her body was immediately met with pleasant warmth, a delicious whiff of blossom honey and crispy honeycomb swirling its way into her nostrils. The young witch allowed herself to inhale deeply, depicting each and every note of the smell with her eyes serenely shut. It filled her insides with balmy, golden light, and if they had been vibrating with nervousness before, that nervousness had now bled into confidence.

Upon opening her eyes, she caught a glimpse of _him_.

Seated in the floor-level bathtub, shrouded in water – [Y/N] caught herself raving on how delightfully warm and pleasant it must've been to be inside – his back was turned to her, and, with his head tilted back, Tom seemed to have closed his eyes in bliss. His sprawled out arms gently gripped the border of the pool, back and arm muscles enticingly emphasised by the ambient, slightly dim lighting of the bathroom. Few of the numerous taps had still been on, clear and caramel-coloured water along with foam leaking out of them resulting in streaming and splashing noises. The girl internally thanked Merlin for this – otherwise, Tom would've long noticed her presence.

Just as the thought had crossed her mind, she watched the young man tiredly lift his arm and slightly wave it to the side, thus refraining every faucet from going any further. The room now being engulfed in silence, the young witch held her breath, as not to give away her attendance to his lavatory retreat. Tom let out a silent groan, which set something within the pit of [Y/N]'s stomach ablaze, and she questioned whether she had not actually fallen asleep back in her dorm room and all of this was just a fruit of her slumber; a fragment of imagination, something conjured by her brain to make up for all of the times she'd fantasised about her fellow Prefect, well-mannered and painfully handsome. She finally breathed.

Something about Tom assured [Y/N]'s eyes remained glued to him at all times, almost resembling a permanent sticking charm. She knew she wouldn't be able to avert her gaze – not like she wanted to in the first place – had it depended on her life. The black waves atop his head, the smooth flesh of his shoulders and arms peppered with drops of water, the realisation he was completely bare beneath the layers of bubbles, foam, and soapy liquid...

“ _Enjoying yourself, are you, Riddle?_ ” she couldn't help herself but ask, words oozing with confidence despite the ongoing storm of emotions inside. She didn't know what had gotten into her, but she certainly took a liking to whatever it was.

Tom's head jerked back in an instant, and once his eyes had fallen upon the girl, _he smirked_. “Why, yes. Are you doubting it?” His voice flowed like caramel; sweet, tangy, deep and weary.

Inhaling some of the honey-scented air that all of a sudden felt heavy in her lungs, she answered, “Not at all. Seems cosy, a full bathtub all to yourself while the rest of the castle is sound asleep.”

“Indeed,” he rasped back, eyes still focused on [Y/N]. They followed the curve of her shoulder all the way down her arm; Tom stared, very obviously so, taking his sweet time, with not a single care in the world about being so overt about it. “Care to join?”

[Y/N] swallowed hard. _Yes_ , he had just asked that. There was not a single intrusive noise in the room to blame the misunderstanding of his question upon.

The girl shrugged her robes off her shoulders. They dove to the floor, pooling around her ankles on the foggy marble. Now, she was left standing in her elegant nightgown of champagne silk; judging by Tom's sudden cocked eyebrow, he took pleasure in the attire. Whether he was examining the lacy collar of the gown or the beauty of [Y/N]'s exposed clavicles, she was not sure, but deemed the latter more likely.

“ _Gladly_.”

She strolled over to the pool under Tom's persistent watch, turning to the right and halting at the opposite edge of where the young man found himself. Kneeling down, she sent an inquisitive index finger into the water, feeling it out. As she had imagined, it was pleasantly tepid, the remains of the magical soap that lingered on her digit contributing to the preservation of that warmth. [Y/N] sat down on the edge, the fabric of her nightgown partially immersing in the water, seconds shy of getting in.

“Hold on,” Tom demanded, having observed her all along. The girl knew why he'd said so, and oh, how grateful she was that he did. “I don't think _that_ ,” he nodded in the direction of her gown, “would be too comfortable in the water. Do take that off for me, yeah?”

[Y/N] smirked. She could swear he wasn't _that_ predictive usually, but she had after all incited it herself. “Fine,” she obeyed, crossing her arms and tugging at the edges of the gown, sliding it off of her body in a swift motion. Beneath it, obviously, was nothing. The girl made sure to fold and lay the item of clothing aside as teasingly slowly as she could, all the while Tom's sultry gaze threatened to melt a hole – or maybe more – right through her body. Once she was done, she gifted her counterpart with a sharp look, and his eyes found no difficulty to rise back up to meet hers in one of the most ardent eye contacts the two had ever shared.

With not a single word having escaped either one, [Y/N] got into the tub; the honey-scented water hugged her body with the most snug warmth, causing her head to go a little fuzzy. Her brain softened significantly – it felt as though it'd fall apart with a single frail touch – all thanks to the tangy aroma and the presence of the most handsome gentleman she'd ever seen one self-assured leap away from her. His lips were curled upward in a dangerously alluring way as he tilted his head to the side just a notch.

“Now, do tell me what brings you here,” he inquired in that low, determined voice of his. There was a certain diabolic undertone to his words, as though he knew perfectly well what the reasoning was but held onto the desire of the girl saying it herself. And, knowing Tom Riddle, he most definitely did.

[Y/N] issued an impudent retort, “I could very well ask you the very same thing.” She grazed the mounds and mountains of iridescent foam with the digits of her right hand, avoiding the young man's eyes.

“Don't you deem it impolite to look away when you're spoken to?” Tom had assumed a steely tone, meager grin fading from his chiseled face entirely. That's when the young witch looked back up at him, locking eyes with the most haunting pair she'd ever witnessed. He was adamant, determined; every step calculated, every lineament controlled. “I do not prefer to repeat myself, thus be so kind as to answer my question, [Y/N].”

The girl gulped; maybe a little too hard than she was supposed to. His sudden dominance, the indicatives of which always somehow lingered on the surface, was certainly a tad too much to handle on the spot. Her answer was simple, “ _Restless_.”

“Is that so?” he expressed his interest in a charming manner, with both dark eyebrows raised and mouth parted slightly. The girl noticed his tongue flash within it, and caught herself wondering what it'd feel like against her skin. Lip captured between her teeth, she inhaled, with the most difficulty she'd ever had in her life, it seemed.

“Yes,” she choked out, a million thoughts racing back and forth within the very vulnerable comfort of her mind. “Could not quite fall asleep and snuck out of the dorms in the hope of seeking shelter here, but then... I came to the realisation _you_ had outpaced me.”

A fiendish smirk crept onto his face. “Why'd you follow suit?” Once again, he had performed the tactic of tugging the answer he was all too well-aware of out of her, just for the satisfaction of perceiving the words he so desired to hear issue out of her own mouth.

Breathing was, at that moment, at least for [Y/N] the most burdensome task in the world. Being in his presence, being spoken to in _that_ way, being looked at as though she were an infinite shimmering pile of gold... The tips of her fingers, her toes, her scalp – all tingled, if not with excitement, then with enticement.

“The hallway, it...” she began, “it seemed so cold. The castle is generally rather frigid at this time of year, Tom, I just longed for some... warmth.”

“I see,” he stirred just a tad, a dim, misty storm arising beyond his dark irises. His handsome face was frozen in an expression of utter analysis, of observance, calculation, almost; as though he intended to read into how the girl is wired, and how the gears within her mind mesh and spin. “Do tell me, would my embrace be fervid enough for you?”

With her stomach twisting, bending and coiling, – as though a wet cloth being wrung out – [Y/N] gapped her mouth open just a notch, not expecting him to get so upfront so quickly, but internally thanking everything and everyone he had been. She smiled the wryest of smiles, lush tension coursing through her veins instead of blood, and answered, “Not at all.”

Tom's lips curled upward slightly; he sat up straight, tilting his head to the side at the same time as to watch the girl get up from her seat and make her way over to him, little by little. The moment their bodies were mere inches away from brushing another, Tom stretched out his arms in order to steadily grip [Y/N]'s hips, pulling her closer; the young witch, in her turn, glided into place atop his lap, hands placing themselves on his shoulders. Legs folded at either sides of the young man's thighs, she felt him slide his palms inwards and gradually up her spine, fingertips sending out small electrical shocks. The way his mellow skin against her own felt as though it'd leave behind traces of hot wax caused the girl to arch her spine, leaning into his strong arms even more. With her eyes rolled into the back of her head, she heard him say, “May I kiss you?”

Brains completely softened and one caress shy of turning fluid, she whimpered an eager “Yes.” Having received the desired consent, Tom attached his sweltering lips right onto [Y/N]'s bare sternum, shutting and parting them again in a pattern of careful, teasing kisses.

“ _Oh!_ ” the girl exclaimed out of surprise as he had done so, and the next thing she knew was that his mouth was now travelling north – towards her chest, gently sucking and nibbling on its way there, until it stopped atop her collarbone and captured it between his teeth. Dying for his lips on hers, [Y/N] eagerly palmed his face with both of her hands and tilted it up, only to be met with a pair of eyes so haunting she felt like prey falling victim to the most perilous, vile predator ever. Yet, however bad the outcome, she would indulge in whatever he'd want her to in a heartbeat – there was just _something_ about Tom Riddle. Something within the realms of enigmaticality and mystery, but beyond anything the young witch had ever experienced before.

Enchanted, she locked lips with him. However good she'd imagined his kisses to be was immediately outdone – with no hesitation at all, he tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss as a result, and did not show fear in sneaking in his tongue, first using it to swipe the girl's bottom lip, and then shamelessly intrude her very lustful mouth. His taste provided an undertone of chocolate and just the slightest bit of mint, and combined with the dizzying smell of his skin – somehow marzipan-like yet with a pungent touch of cologne – and the honey-scented soap, it was as though [Y/N] had all of a sudden landed in Honeydukes, just a much, much better version of it.

One of Tom's hands slid down – not without fondling her breast in a gentle, yet determined way first – and settled atop the girl's hip, while the other snuck upwards, soon closing around her throat; his grip was tender and light at first. Soon enough, he pulled away from her lips with a soft pop, and, while a confused [Y/N] was forced to grasp his shoulders once more, he spoke, in his low and threatening tone, “Brave; ordering me around with your hands like that. Very brave indeed.”

The girl stifled a moan; he was irresistible. Ignoring his previous statement due to her mind being completely fogged up, she spoke, not without emitting a shaky, prolonged gasp first, “ _You make it hard to breathe_.” That, truthfully, wasn't because of Tom's palm resting around her neck, as it wasn't doing anything just yet; [Y/N] meant what she said in every single aspect possible. The way he'd speak, the way he'd move, the way he'd act, the way he'd always be able to get his way no matter what – all of it, the whole lot, blocked her airway as though cotton being forcefully stuffed down her throat each and every time she'd inhale.

Tom smirked. He raised his eyebrows in a case of pleased stupor, “ _Do I?_ ” And with those words having escaped his mouth, he tightened his grip around [Y/N]'s neck, fingers curling around and digging into her delicate skin. A moan of surprise that soon bled into pleasure issued out of the girl's mouth as Tom proceeded to choke her harder, making sure to squeeze around the neck and not press down onto it; after all, he didn't fully intend to take her life. The girl hummed, pleased, with her eyes falling shut in bliss – beneath her, she noticed Tom had hardened due to his erection pushing up against the underside of her thigh. She reacted with a charmed whimper, and as soon as she had, the young man let go of her throat; small purple fingerprints blossomed on [Y/N]'s delicate skin, and he, holding her steady, leaned back in to trace them with his mouth – kissing, licking, and simply touching the burgundy marks with his sweltering lips. The blood in her veins pumped against his mouth more vigorously as he grinned to himself – he had never witnessed anyone more desperate for him than his sweet fellow Prefect [Y/N] [Y/LN].

Crossing her arms behind his neck, the girl leaned in even closer. Their bare bodies collided, exchanging miniature bolts of lightning which kindled immense heat and pleasurable tension between them. Tom pulled away from the girl's gentle skin, gazing up into her eyes with a power-hungry look of pure lust.

“I could,” his voice was as gentle as satin folding onto itself, “lay you down on the marble,” taking teasing pauses between words, “ _and taste you_.”

Yet another shaky sigh crawled its way out of the girl's throat, but before she could even bring herself to come up with an answer, Tom followed up, “If you want me to, of course.”

It was as though every single pore of the girl's skin strived to erupt with _Yes, yes, yes, please!_ right that instant; there was nothing she desired more at that moment than what Tom Riddle had just proposed to her.

“I do,” she whispered in response, leaning in to place a trail of soft kisses ascending all the way from the young man's shoulder to his jaw. In the meantime, he had slid his palms beneath either underside of the girl's thighs, lifting her body up with no difficulty. While her glistening legs wrapped around his frame, Tom swiftly took to turning around and sitting the girl down on the edge of the tub. He positioned the fingers of his dominant hand just beneath her chin and guided her to look up at him, capturing her recently busy lips in yet another ardent kiss.

While they had been engaged in it, Tom placed his palms on the girl's legs that were snaked around him, and gave them mellow, generous strokes – all the while using the weight of his body towering over [Y/N] to nudge her backwards and down onto the hazy chilliness that was the marble floor of the Prefects' bathroom. The sudden coldness her back was soon enough met with was balanced out by the feverish heat coursing through the girl's bloodstream and setting each and every cell of her body ablaze – she didn't even care, as her only goal at that moment was to continue kissing Tom's lips; that and only that. Even if that would be the only task she'd have to attend to for the rest of her life.

He broke the kiss too soon, dragging his lips down [Y/N]'s chin, jawline, neck, chest – not without peppering the delicate areas with the most fervent of kisses – until he stopped precisely between the girl's breasts. There, his mouth trailed its way toward one of the mounds, lips brushing over the goosebump-peppered skin, only to tease her hardened nipple by nibbling and sucking subtly. The girl let out a needy whine as a reaction, execrating yet enshrining him for it at the same time. While she desired him to take his sweet time with her as to have the moment last forever, she also wished for him to pull out all the stops, and as soon as possible. She rocked her hips as to alert Tom of her impatience – as if it hadn't been painfully obvious already – and upon that, his teeth sunk into her nipple even harder than before. A mere yelp escaped her lips, and she instantly understood not to attempt to control him ever again... unless she'd wanted the situation to eventuate in something more vehement.

A few seconds later, Tom had pursued the explorative journey of [Y/N]'s body anew, kissing a path down her stomach. He sunk deeper into the tub, freeing himself from the legs wrapped around him – only to relocate them atop his shoulders. He leaned in, sheer inches away from the girl's smouldering core; her heart threatened to beat straight through her ribcage and out, out, out. The initial tongue-to-skin contact served as a sedative – although [Y/N]'s breath hitched, it managed to even out, with pure bliss spreading throughout her body as Tom opened her folds with his tongue and swirled it over the girl's clit.

Whimper after whimper came tumbling out of her mouth on cue, hands desperately trying to find something to hold onto and legs trembling with excitement as Tom skillfully worked his mouth against her vulva. Palm lying flatly on the girl's lower stomach, he pressed down just a tad in an attempt to warn her about her unsteadiness. Yet it was way too much to handle – or so she thought – since a few moments and a lot of ample licking and sucking later, Tom's index and middle fingers had entered [Y/N] with derisive slowness. She yelped at the sensation as the young man combined his purposeful tongue motions with subtle pumping and scissoring – multiplying the bliss she fell prey to by a million. Having squeezed her eyes shut, the witch triggered phosphene as colorful spots and stars showered behind her closed eyelids. The stirring in the pit of her stomach that only seemed to get more vigorous caused the girl's moans to increase in volume significantly, and with a breathy _Tom!_ , it was certain she was as close as one can be.

Tom rubbed his tongue against her clit, hard, and, combined with the forceful fingering, she was coming undone against his face mere seconds later – with her core trembling and mouth shedding various sounds that varied in volume and length. Making sure to lead her through it all right and lick her clean afterward, the young man gave her thigh one final caress and lifted the girl's quivering legs off of his shoulders. His glistening lips spread into a self-assured grin and he gazed down at [Y/N] as she came to; with her breath still uneven and heart thumping hard as ever, she managed to sit up, yet limply. By then, Tom had settled his palms upon her hips, tugging the girl closer, where he met her in yet another kiss – allowing her to taste herself on his tongue with a rather haughty note to the action. It was paradise, although filthy paradise, and the girl let herself melt straight into it anyway.

Hands sliding down the man's torso, [Y/N] tried to comprehend, to gather her thoughts, yet it was as though with every refined movement of Tom's full lips against hers, she strayed further away from the fulfilment of her intention. Her entire train of thought had been erased in an instant as soon as she felt one of his palms close around her breast and knead – the second one panned out to be not long in coming, either. Issuing a gasp of surprise into the kiss, she wrapped her legs around Tom's body and pulled him closer. He only sneered. Wasting no more time, [Y/N] propped herself up with one of her arms and dove back into the bathtub, clinging onto the young man for dear life. To her displeasure, his hands instinctively shifted back to her hips in order to support her and keep her steady. Tom took a step forward, merely pressing her back against the wall and thus causing more crackling electricity to swap between their lit ablaze bodies. Detaching his lips from [Y/N]'s with a subtle smacking sound, he focused his dark, arcane eyes on the girl's.

“Do you really want this, [Y/N]?” he questioned, sincerity burnt into his irises. While he was looking for an answer beyond hers, the girl was too busy internally gushing over the manner he'd pronounced her name and how much of a liking she had acquired for it.

Having forced out a brief exhalation, the girl assured, “Of course I do, Tom. _Please_ , continue.”

Riddle sneered once more, her dizzying taste still lingering on his tongue with no intent to cease anytime soon. He, too, had acquired a liking for the words that her mouth shed; in his case, it wasn't the intonation, but rather the oh-so-cavalier consent itself.

“ _Splendid_.”

He took a gentle hold of his cock beneath the honey-scented water, lining himself up at the girl's entrance; he teased by gently rubbing his sensitive head among her slit and folds, pushing in the slightest bit but then pulling out yet again. [Y/N] was a whimpering mess in his arms, her core vibrating with excitement that – by then – bordered hysteria. Leaning in to the girl's ear, he whispered with a certain tinge of obscurity, “Beg for me, would you?”

His words wrapped barbed wire around [Y/N]'s throat, but in the best way possible. She gulped, gasping as though there was not a single puff of oxygen left in the world, and, with every last muscle threatening to burst at any given second, she complied, “Please, my Lord, _please_ take me. Make me yours.”

Tom inhaled sharply, pleased by the name he had been referred to. “Since you've asked so nicely,” he put forth with a delicious darkness to his tone. The next thing [Y/N] knew he was buried deep inside her, and she was forced to let out one rich moan after another, her arms wrapping around the young man's strong shoulders for support. Tom's head tilted back in pleasure as he made aimed, rough thrusts, gasping for air. He made sure not to let out too many sounds himself as he mainly intended to listen to [Y/N], determined to pick up every last sound she'd made as a result of what he was doing to her.

The girl whined and whimpered, the feeling of Tom's cock stretching her walls each time anew overwhelming her senses and drowning her brain in bliss. Her mouth gaped and her legs quivered, threatening to lose their strength to hold onto the young man. Tom jerked his head to the side forcing an assemble of curls that had stuck to his sweaty forehead out of his view, proceeding with vigorous thrusts. Each time he'd slide back into her, [Y/N] let out sharp yelps; each sensation nudged her closer to heaven, or something painfully similar to it.

Before she could take her time to ponder upon it, Tom had snuck his right hand beneath her leg and grasped her by the pit of her knee, pulling it up and swinging it over his shoulder. Thus, he had acquired a new angle, and pounded into her even harder – now that the girl's sweet spot was fully exposed to him. He picked up on the fact the position he had switched to did wonders almost immediately; the most telling hint for it being either the fact [Y/N] had howled in a way he'd never heard her do so prior or that helpless bite that was sunk into his shoulder. He growled, – more out of pleasure than out of pain, really, – keeping his pace steady and shutting his eyes, his own orgasm nearing.

“Oh, _Merlin_ , right there, keep going, please,” [Y/N] mewled, head obscured in the crook of Tom's neck. Unable to say more, she proceeded to suck and nibble on her own kiss-bruised lip, both biting back a chain of moans that threatened to release and intent on distracting herself from the fact she was getting fucked by Tom Riddle himself, and so skillfully, too. Otherwise, had she happened to fully grasp it, she feared she'd simply perish on the spot – with either disbelief or exuberant euphoria. Yet Tom, on the other hand, was just about to remind her of said fact.

“Right,” his voice had come to be rather breathy, “ _there?_ ” He accompanied the word with yet another thrust – certainly exceeding the previous ones in both speed and roughness – that lured a whine out of the girl's mouth along with a luscious clenching of her walls. She threw her head back, clawing into his pallid flesh, hair bouncing up and down due to the overwhelming pace Tom had adopted, and, a few moments, thrusts and whimpers later, she was coming on his length with all sorts of cusses as utter bliss washed over her body. She twitched, each breath getting caught in her lungs as though they had collapsed, and while she was seeing meteor showers as well as heaps of stars promenading in the back of her head, Tom led her through it with now his own lip captured between his teeth in desperation.

While the girl remained engulfed in the subtle afterglow of her orgasm, her fellow Prefect promptly pulled out, using her post-discharge weakness to his advantage and turning the girl around, pushing up against her thus forcing the witch to grasp the edge of the tub. He lined himself back up and didn't waste a single speck of time to enter her yet again, this time basically pushing her down his length, immediately picking his previous pace back up. While his left hand steadied the girl by her hip, his right one reached forward, gathering some of [Y/N]'s soft Y/HC hair in his fist and twisting it, thus wrapping some of it around his tight grasp. He gritted his teeth, dangerously close, but not willing to let go just yet. A chain of shivers ran down the girl's spine, one after another, a generous pinch of goosebumps following suit. Every position Tom picked, it appeared, messed with [Y/N] in its own, unique way; this one seemed to be determined on making scrambled egg out of her brain, and, frankly, intestines.

She moaned and clung to the cool marble of the floor while the young man's grip around her hips tightened – his fingernails dug into her delicate skin, and he indulged in tugging her hair out of despondency, all caused by an all-too-delicious pulsation of the girl's walls yet again. At that point, Tom was trying his absolute hardest not to cum right then and there, although with great difficulty – [Y/N] felt sublime around him, a simply perfect fit, a match made if not in heaven, then somewhere equally as divine.

“My goodness, _fuck_ ,” he grunted, words so heavy they could drag one to the bottom of a lake with vile ease. Gasping for air, Tom focused on keeping a stable pace, and before he knew it, his moaning, smouldering mess of a partner was, once again, orgasming beneath him. Clenching around his cock, she issued carnal whines, knuckles white as she threatened to drill indentations into the expensive stone of the lavatory floor. Tom hummed to himself, pleased, speeding up – his thrusts had bled into sloppiness, and as his breath hitched with increased frequency, it was safe to say he was right about to come undone. Pushing himself over the edge with yet another forceful thrust into her throbbing cunt, he allowed himself a rich groan, indulging in one of the most mind-blowing orgasms he'd ever experienced; profusely short of breath and willing to give everything to hold onto this sensation for just a little while longer, he rode himself out, his ears plugging up, therefore drowning out all of the sounds a heavily overstimulated, but nevertheless satisfied [Y/N] was letting out. Mouth hung agape, Tom slowed down, not without a succession of pants having escaped him first.

Letting go of [Y/N]'s hair as it dropped on her glistening back, he slid out of the girl, taking his sweet time doing so. Tom gifted the girl's side with a gentle caress, inhaling rich portions of the honey-scented air at the same time, seeking to even out his breathing as soon as possible. Soon enough, he casually dove backwards into the balmy water, shutting his eyes out of exhaustion, a luscious remainder of his preceding orgasm still lingering in the pit of his stomach in form of a subtle vibration.

Once he had brought himself to open his eyes again, [Y/N] was right there, in front of him, worn-out as one can be – usually neat hair tousled, eyes teary, cheeks helplessly flushed. He had taken her apart quite well, for which he granted himself an imaginary shoulder pat and a pleased grin.

“Come here,” he rasped. The witch, it appeared, had no other choice but to comply – and, surely, did not even consider doing anything else. She drew closer to her fellow Prefect, where she dove right into his grip, his gentle arms closing around her lower back. Hers, for their part, locked around his neck, and while she indulged in a daydream about laying his lips upon his once more, they moved.

“You must be rather joyous to have found yourself here on this merry evening.”

[Y/N] stifled a laugh at the utter elegance his smugness teemed with, “Possibly.” She was bluffing; even joy wasn't quite enough to describe how she truly felt about the encounter.

“You cannot fool me,” a sneer grazed his face as he leaned in to her ear, probably for the tenth time that night, and muttered, “although immersed in the most fervent of waters, your body still somehow feels the need to tremble with such vigorousness one might think you're bedridden with a raging fever.”

Tom Riddle always spoke and acted as though he were the voice within your head, as though it was he who processed and filtered every thought that crossed your mind. He was one step ahead at all times, in possession of just the right words to say and the appropriate buttons to push. One could simply not outwit him, or at least he could be perceived that way, and trying to would result in momentous failure. _Something_ , that something about him, it almost made one think he wasn't human; a formidable creation of the supreme, set upon the world to achieve pure greatness, to excel, to outdo, to dominate. There was not a single doubt he was unlike any other, a curiosity, a far cry from a regular wizard. Someone otherwordly, somehow alien, somehow aloof.

**Author's Note:**

> confession time: i am slightly drunk uploading this, otherwise i'd be a little too flustered to do so. anyhow; thank you for reading! <3 if you're not from twitter, consider following me, please – @/nobleregulus !


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